I don't know whether these feelings - this thing growing inside of me - is something horrible and sick or the best thing that's ever happened to me. Either way, I can't stop it. I've lost control. And the truly sick thing is that despite everything, I'm glad.

My stomach gets that hollowed-out feeling. It's amazing how words can do that, just shred your insides apart.

Amazing how hope lives. Without air or water, with hardly anything at all to nurture it.

Waste today, want tomorrow.

We leave Pippa behind, standing in the dark, teeming bowels of the camp, while the sun begins to stain the sky electric, and from all sides the guns draw closer.

No one had ever told her this basic fact: not everyone got to be loved.

No one can tell us no. No one can make us stop. We have picked each other and the rest of the world can go to hell.